


Everybody Wants Somebody

by Literally_No_One_Cares



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literally_No_One_Cares/pseuds/Literally_No_One_Cares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet at a ball. And yeah, they're definitely meant to be--to be...well, to be something. Patrick's not really sure what. And what's with the tiny dude with the wings and a beard? Oh, and his parents are breathing down his neck to find a spouse or else they'll pick one for him, and that sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Wants Somebody

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I've been talked into writing more Peterick while I ignore literALLY EVERYTHING ELSE WHOOPS (also by the way Fairy Tale!Pete invents the upright bass lol)
> 
> There's a tiny sex scene that's really not worth the mature rating but I'm paranoid lol

Patrick was bored. Well, that wasn't actually that unusual, especially not today. Unlike most princes in most fairy tales, he wasn't off to save a princess who would be his one true love, or fight a dragon, or about to go on a quest to find the girl he'd met the night before; he was being treated like an oversized dress-up doll by his best friend (who happened to work in his parents' stables but was currently hiding from his boss) and he didn't like it. His parents, the king and queen of Wilmetteland, were hosting a ball that night, and eligible princesses (and princes; this wasn't the dark ages, after all) there and Patrick was supposed to 'look his best.' Personally, he didn't give a rat's ass about dressing up for the dumb party, but apparently Joe did so he had to suffer through his enthusiasm.

"Patrick, the most famous, rich, _attractive_ people on the planet are going to be in your house. And you have a chance to possibly hook up with one of them," Joe groaned, flinging the doors of the prince's wardrobe open, "and you don't care about what you're going to wear. Honestly, you should have been the stable boy and I should have been the one in line for the throne. Maybe they accidentally switched us when we were babies. I mean, we're the same age."

"Are you high? Somehow I doubt that someone would mix us up," Patrick chuckled. He almost reminded him that it was fairly unlikely that he'd ever actually have the throne but he decided not to. The young prince watched in growing dismay as Joe raided his wardrobe for something, _anything_ he deemed suitable for the night's social affair. It wasn't too surprising that the pile that had been named 'never wear this again I'm burning it later' was much larger than the other one which Joe called 'this is ok but you need serious help.' "It's not like I'll actually find someone tonight. My parents want me to but I doubt I will."

"You'll never meet anyone dressing like you do. We've got a lot of work to do," Joe sighed. Well, it's not like it was Patrick's idea for him to play personal stylist, so he didn't care. Before he knew it, Joe was pulling him off his bed and giving him behind a partition screen set up for him to change behind--against his will, mind you. The stable boy slung a pacific blue suit over the top of the partition and went to wait on the other side. "Hurry up, we don't have all day. The guests start arriving in an hour."

Patrick wanted to go hide in a tower in the furthest wing from the god forsaken ballroom.

* * *

Ok, so the suit Joe picked wasn't a bad choice. It fit Patrick well and blue was really a good color on him. He fought with his friend for a solid twenty minutes about whether or not he'd wear his crown, and ultimately ended up losing and having to wear the gaudy thing. Honestly, he'd rather wear a hat. Something that drew less attention to him. He really wasn't fond of all the attention his title brought, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. Whatever. Joe could make him dress nice, wear the shitty crown, and go to the dumb party, but he couldn't make him dance.

But his mother could. She stared metaphorical daggers at him for several minutes after the first girl he'd turned down, at the second she shook her head in disappointment, and by the third she turned away with this 'I-can't-bear-to-look-at-you' expression that got under her son's skin. To appease her, the prince danced with the next young lady who approached him; she was a nice girl but he politely excused himself at the end of the song and chose to linger by the refreshments instead.

Apparently, Patrick wasn't the only one who had that idea. A darker skinned man who appeared just slightly older than him, dressed all in black, was leaning up against the wall near the table that the young prince had been planning to linger by. He was obviously foreign; the people of Wilmetteland were notoriously pale. His hair had a rough, curly texture, despite what seemed to be efforts to make it lie straight across his forehead, and it was partially hidden behind a crown not unlike Patrick's. So he was a probably a prince as well.

"Looking to escape the crowd?" the stranger asked. Patrick nodded sheepishly. He couldn't help it, the guy was _wayyyy_ more attractive than him (in his opinion, anyway), and that made him distrust his voice. "I'm Pete. Well, Prince Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III of Armadale, but that's a fucking mouthful so, uh, yeah. I'm Pete."

"Prince Patrick Martin Vaughn Stumph, of Wilmetteland. But I'm ok with just Patrick," he managed to say without stuttering, and extended a hand for Pete to shake. He accepted it and man did the guy have a tight grip.

"Stumph? So this is your lame party. That sucks, dude. I hate these things. They're too formal," Pete groaned. Patrick somehow summoned the will for another nod and an exasperated look. "So, just Patrick, where could we hide to get away from this shitty excuse for a ball?"

"I guess if I go up to the balcony attached to my chambers and you happen to follow me I can't be blamed for our disappearance," Patrick laughed--holy smokes, he was proud of that! It was so fucking smooth that it put Joe's flirting to shame, and he'd been out-charming Patrick for years. Pete seemed surprised and possibly pleased(?) with the offer and followed the younger prince out of the ballroom. If his mother grinned proudly at them as they ducked out, well, Patrick didn't notice (but his father's triumphant 'WHOOOP' and his brother's wolf whistle were hard to ignore).

* * *

It was a rather long trek from the party to Patrick's rooms on the other side of the east wing. This side of the castle was mostly occupied by his and sibblings' chambers, Megan's in the south hall nearest to the ballroom, and Kevin's whose were directly under his own on the top floor. He pretended not to get winded halfway up the spiral staircase but it didn't really do any good. He had this terrible wheeze every time he was out of breath, however not even the best healers had figured out how to make it go away so he just lived with it. If Pete noticed it, though, he didn't say a word.

Out on the balcony, they could see for miles around. From the city surrounding the castle, to the tiny villages in the hills, to the vast farmland near the boarders, the entire kingdom was on display, and it was breathtaking. And the stars, wow. Patrick had quite to view from up here, and he loved it, but it seemed like adding his new acquaintance to the mix made it exponentially better, and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps the thought of sharing his little piece of the world with someone else made it sweeter somehow; it was hard to tell.

"So, I know why I don't like balls--ha, _balls_ \--but what about you? This is your family's party. Shouldn't you be down there looking for, like, some nice girl to make your queen someday? If you don't find one yourself, your parents will probably pick one for you, and well, been there, done that, got a T-shirt, and it wasn't fun," Pete inquired, staring up at the sky instead of looking at Patrick. "Arranged marriages suck ass, and not in the fun way."

Patrick choked. This guy's sense of humor was something else. "Ah, maybe it won't be so bad. I mean, I don't really need to have a queen if I'm not going to be king. I've got two older siblings who're in line before me, so I'll probably just end up as a member of the court or something. And I know my parents wouldn't pick someone I couldn't stand."

"I don't know, Trick," Pete tsked, shaking his head, "Mine's not the only horror story I've heard. Me and Ashlee got along pretty well at first--we have a son, Bronx--but we couldn't stand to be in the same room after a while. We got divorced. She got remarried. I didn't. And I'm not going to, until I know it's the right person, and the right timing."

"Holy smokes. That. Actually sounds awful. Sorry. I'm just worried that no one would want to marry me if it wasn't arranged, I guess. I mean, I'm not exactly, well, _you_. I wouldn't be surprised if you had women, and probably guys too, throwing themselves at you."

"You're not wrong. And holy smokes? Really? That has got to be the most adorable thing I've ever heard. I don't know what you're talking about, though. Yeah, no one's as hot as me, but that's no reason for you to compare yourself to me. You're not as bad looking as you think you are, and if you say adorable shit like 'holy smokes' all the time, you'll break a lot of hearts, I'm positive," the older prince beamed, and oh god, Patrick thought he was going to turn every shade of red that existed when that smile--that ridiculously big, toothy grin--was aimed at him.

"So, you have a son? Is he as entertaining as you are?" Pete's smile grew wider than Patrick was possible at the opportunity to talk more about his boy.

* * *

When Patrick woke up the next morning, he was flustered when he realized he had been dreaming of the handsome prince he met the night before. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Joe burst through his door demanding every detail about the night before, and he'd end up embarrassing himself somehow when he gushed everything he knew about Pete. Fuck, just the thought of him made Patrick happy. _Pete_. Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, Prince of Armadale, who had a son named Bronx and a dog named Hemingway, and two younger siblings, Andrew and Hillary, and the prettiest smile Patrick had ever seen. Oh god, he was obsessed.

He heard footsteps approaching. It was only a matter of seconds before--"Patrick! You have to tell me everything. Did you dance? Did you meet a girl? Is she hot? Are you going to see her again? Does she have an equally attractive--possibly twin--sister?" Joe rattled off so quickly it was hard for the prince to keep up. "Are you someone's Prince Charming?"

"I uh, I danced with one girl. But she didn't seem very interested in me. I sort of ended up talking to this guy all night who was pretty cool. It it makes you feel any better, he does have a sister," Patrick replied.

"Oooh, is _he_ the Prince Charming? Holy shit, Patrick, you have to tell me all about him," Joe chattered, flopping down on the foot of the bed as Patrick sat up.

"His name's Pete. He's next in line for the crown in Armadale. He's already been married once and he's got a son, and a dog, Joe, a _dog_. He's got to be the most attractive being I've ever laid eyes on, man. The dude is hilarious, if not a bit too energetic. He's, he's...shit, am I in love?" Patrick babbled.

"I think so, buddy. My little Patty's growing up," Joe snickered, dodging the pillow that Patrick threw at him. "We'll have to find an excuse for you to see him again. Is he still in town, or did he leave after the ball? If he's still around, do you know where he's staying?"

"Um, I have no clue. I probably should have asked that, shouldn't I?" Patrick groaned. Just then, there was a gentle tapping at the window. Both boys eyed it suspiciously, before Patrick got out of bed and crossed to the other side of the room to open it. A tiny human shape, no bigger than a bar of soap, fell in with very little grace. It appeared to be male, if the ginger-colored beard was anything to go by, and had delicate wings protruding from its (incredibly muscular) back.

"Which one of you is Patrick?" the little guy asked while shaking dust off his wings. He landed on the prince's dresser and looked back and forth from Joe to Patrick as he waited for an answer.

"Um, the fuck are you?" Joe asked. Their small visitor rolled his eyes. There was a flash of light, then a much bigger but still very bearded and winged man standing in front of them.

"I'm your fairy god-Hurley. Ok, so I'm Pete's fairy god father, but if you're ever in need of some magic, I'm your man. My name's Andy, and I'm supposed to give this," he pulled a small mirror out of thin air, "to a 'very adorable prince named Patrick.' Again, which one of you is Patrick?"

Patrick's mouth fell open and he flushed from the tips of his ears to the tips of his toes. The now human-sized fairy pointed at the prince, and the stable boy nodded. "I think I'm going to go do some actual work, for once. Since I don't want to be fired," Joe said. He gave the fairy god-Hurley an appraising glance. "If you want to find me later, I'll be shoveling horse shit out of the barn, and I'd much rather be doing something else."

Andy grinned. "I'll be there. Anyway, you," he promised, turning to Patrick as Joe slipped out. "Pete sent me to give you this. It's actually pretty cool; I've outdone myself on this one. It's part of a pair of magic mirrors that lets you talk to whoever has the other one. In your case, it's Pete. All you have to do is say something that rhymes to activate it. So, uh, yeah. You get the idea. Your stable-friend is probably waiting, so yeah."

Patrick didn't pay much attention to the fairy's exit, he was too busy examining the mirror. It wasn't very orante, but it was functional, so he couldn't complain. He'd heard of enchanted mirrors that hung on walls in the castles of evil queens, and in those stories they always said something that started with 'Mirror, mirror...' He had to think for a minute before he could come up with something just cheesey enough to work.

"Mirror, mirror, from the fairy god father, connect me to Pete, if it won't be a bother," Patrick tried, cringing at how stupid he sounded but quickly forgeting about it when a haze appeared in the glass, and then he was met with that big smile again.

"Trick! Is this cool or what? Fuck, I've gotta thank Hurley the next time I see him. So, how's it going? I'm still in town for a couple of days. Maybe we could hang later?"

* * *

That was how Patrick ended up in a tiny pub in the middle of the city that afternoon, seated across from a beaming Pete. They ate, talked, laughed--Patrick was most definitely in love. He could listen to Pete talk forever, and he intended to try his best to make that possible. Over lunch, he learned that Pete's mom was Jamaican, he liked music and played cello (but had been experimenting with plucking the strings instead of using his bow and he said it sounded 'sick'), and that while his parents still wanted him to get remarried, he was the one who got to choose his spouse. He was looking for someone that he thought would be good for Bronx, and that as long as they fit that discription he didn't have any other specifics.

"So wait, you actually wanted to go to a ball?" Patrick asked. Pete was telling him yet abother story and the beginning of it already had Patrick in stitches. "But you hate balls. Oh, you're so mature. Yes, Pete, I said balls."

"Yeah, I know. I was a kid, and I thought it'd be fun. I was wrong, but whatever. So, I'm desperate to go to this ball, and Hurley says that he can get me in. Only, it's a masquerade ball and I have to wear a mask and I was cool with that but," he paused to fiddle with his drink, "this mask is the fugliest thing I've ever seen. Apparently I'm the only one who thought so, because I get there and it's some sort of like, people magnet, and I dance with like half the people there. So, I end up getting dragged upstairs by this dude and I wasn't paying attention but it turned out to be my buddy Mikey and it was awkward as hell when we figured it out, because we'd been grinding on each other for like an hour."

Patrick sighed. Pete's life was so much more interesting than his. He didn't have stories like that about him and Joe. There was that one time that Joe snuck Patrick out of of the castle in the middle of the night, but they got caught coming back in and they hadn't been sneaking off to do anything that would have been that big of a deal if they would have done it during the day. "So Mikey's like 'oh my god, don't tell my brother,' because apparently Gerard and Frank had this bet that I'd make out with him and I did and he didn't want Gerard to win the bet," Pete continued. "So I ask Andy about it and he says that the mask was magic and I was like 'you don't think you could have told me that before I made out with Mikey Way?' Fuck, it was insane."

"Speaking of Hurley, I'm pretty sure he's in my parents' barn fooling around with my friend Joe," Patrick thought out loud. Pete froze momentarily, then laughed so hard he was coughing. "They were checking each other out earlier so I--don't die."

"Dude. Our best friends are probably fucking right now," Pete gasped, the fit of laughter-coughing seizing him again. Patrick shuddered; he really didn't want that mental image. _Thanks_ , Pete. "I'm kind of jealous. Not that I don't enjoy talking to you, but we could also be fucking and we're not. But we totally should." Now that was a mental image Patrick didn't mind so much.

* * *

In the castle, behind the locked doors of Patrick's chambers, hands roamed skin as if to map every inch. Layers of clothes were shed slowly until two bodies were bare before each other. One, pale and soft, flushed and gasping, the other, darker and lean, writhing and groaning. They found their way, clumsily, to the bed, and fell onto it together.

A small bottle of oil was found within a pillowcase. Fingers, one, two, and three. The pale and soft looming over the darker and lean. Teeth, nails, tongues. Hair was pulled, backs were scratched, and necks were marked. Names were cried out as climaxes were reached, and sleep consumed both pale and soft and darker and lean until later in the night.

* * *

 When Joe knocked on the door to Patrick's chambers that night, Pete answered the door. Which Joe thought was pretty cool, because his best friend got laid, but he had something important to tell the Prince of Wilmetteland that was probably going to kill the mood. He hated that he had to do it, though after what he'd overheard, he had to say something.

"I'm guessing you're Pete. Sweet," Joe greeted the grinning prince. And that smile that Patrick had gone on and on about? Yeah, he was right about how pretty it was. The stable boy moved past Pete, only for his eyes to land on Patrick, naked but under the bed sheets, with a grin that matched Pete's. So Joe couldn't bring himself to tell him.

* * *

But Patrick did find out, just not from Joe. It was a few days after Pete had returned to Armadale (but kept up contact with Patrick via the mirrors, of course) when the king and queen sat him down to give him the news. At first, he was confused as to why they would have something to tell him in such a formal way. He hadn't done anything to get in trouble recently; however, when he realized what they were going to say, his heart shattered.

"Rick, sweetheart," his mother said, taking hold of his hand, "We have some important news for you. After sone discussion with one of our neighbors to the south, we've come to an agreement, and you're to be wed to their eldest child in a month's time." She had more to say, but Patrick didn't want to hear it.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, no. No no nononononono. Shit. I thought I had more time, I--Pete. Oh _god_ , Pete. I had someone. I found someone amazing and--I have to tell Pete," their son gasped. He stood and ran from the room to get to the mirror so he could call the Prince of Armadale. Once he reached his rooms, he slammed the door shut and locked it.

"Mirror, mirror, this isn't good; connect me to Pete, if you would." It took a moment for the haze to form, and then Pete's smiling face was in front of Patrick. Did he ever stop smiling like that? _Apparently he does_ , Patrick thought when his face fell upon seeing how distraught Patrick looked. "Oh God, Pete," was all he could bring himself to say.

"Patrick, are you ok? Is something wrong? What happened? Is there anything I can do?" Pete rattled off question after question. Patrick shook his head, tears threatening to fall. "Come on, you have to talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong."

"You can't help. No one can," the younger prince managed to speak. "My parents made a deal with somebody--shit, I don't even know who--for me to marry their oldest kid. I was too upset to hear the rest." It hadn't occured to him that they touched three other kingdoms on their southern border. That meant he could end up shipped off to any one of them, and marrying the future king or queen. He didn't want to rule a kingdom, especially not one that wasn't Wilmetteland.

"Hey, shit, Patrick, don't cry, it'll be ok. I know it seems really bad, and I probably didn't help your opinion of arranged marriages, but lots of people make it work and learn to love each other. It won't be as bad as I made it seem. It didn't work between me and Ashlee because I'm an asshole, but you're not so it'll be better for you," Pete comforted.

"You don't understand, I can't get married. I can't marry someone I don't love when I already love someone else. It wouldn't be fair to the other person, because I won't be able to give them my heart like I should. I can't learn to love a stranger when I already love you," Patrick choked out.

Pete was silent. He loved Patrick too, but this was the worst possible way for Patrick to tell him that. Damn it. He finally fell in love again and it was ripped away from him before he could really have it. Patrick was like, this little ball of sunshine and sarcasm that he'd barely known for a fortnight and couldn't bring himself to live without. "I love you too, Patrick. I really do. But I have to let you go if you're getting married to someone else." It hurt him to say it, but there was nothing else to do.

Then someone was knocking on Pete's door, so he told Patrick he'd have to call him back In case it was something important.

* * *

Patrick didn't function properly for days. He only spoke to Joe, and then the occasional call with Pete, but those were bittersweet and filled with sad smiles that he didn't like to look at. His sister had tried to get him to talk, but he refused and she gave up. His parents hadn't even bothered trying, since they knew it wouldn't work anyway. He didn't leave his chambers, he didn't eat very much, and he didn't move much more than from his bed to his desk and back. Nighttime found him on the balcony, his hands lingering over places on the railing that Pete had touched.

After almost a week and a half of this empty existence, Joe brought a message from the king and queen. The prince that Patrick was to marry (this confirmed that he was marrying a future king) was on his way there by carriage and would arrive the next day, so he had to actually leave his room in order to meet the man and make him feel welcome. He didn't really think he could do that last part, but he didn't seem to have a choice in the matter, so the next day he was present at the castle gate when the stranger's traveling party arrived.

There was only one carriage, drawn by two larger quarter horses as opposed to the fine white show horses one would expect of a prince's traveling party. The driver opened the door and first a knight and then a squire exited the carriage, before the prince climbed out after them.

The squire cleared his throat and began to announce the prince. "Presenting his royal highness Peter Lewis Kingst--"

"Pete?" Patrick exclaimed. How? Armadale. One of the kingdoms they bordered was Armadale. Patrick was marrying the oldest prince of Armadale. He was so happy he could cry! Actually, he did. He rushed forward, embraced Pete, and sobbed.

"Sorry I didn't tell you when I found out, but I wanted to see the look on your face. I was right, it was a pretty beautiful face," Pete murmured into Patrick's neck. The younger prince released him and turned to look at his parents, dumbfound and a little proud. Had they done this on purpose? They saw him leave the ball with Pete, after all.

The king and queen were beaming at their son. They had started to think that Patrick wasn't going to find someone. He hadn't exactly been actively looking. But when he slipped away from the ball with the Prince of Armadale following behind him, they knew it had been love at first sight. And there was no one else for Patrick.

**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after :)


End file.
